


Somebody Brand New

by watermelonikaz



Category: Holostars, Virtual Streamer Animated Characters
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Aniki!Astel, Background Babudon, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Misunderstandings, Past Relationship(s), Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 17:42:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29493750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watermelonikaz/pseuds/watermelonikaz
Summary: “Hey, you called me, friend,” Fubuki laughed again. Then she was silent for a moment before continuing a bit more seriously. “Oga, it’ll be fine. Temma isn’t her. They’re nothing alike. You deserve a chance at happiness after everything you’ve done for everyone else.”“I can’t do it all again, Fubuki,” Oga admitted. “I just can’t. The rejection would hurt too much.”“You have to,” Fubuki replied somberly before her tone shifted back to something light. “And anyway, if you crash and burn, we can just drink it all away at Roberu’s bar!”
Relationships: Aragami Oga/Kishido Temma, Kageyama Shien/Yukoku Roberu
Kudos: 25





	Somebody Brand New

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Clover_Zero](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clover_Zero/gifts).



> For Aiko, it's TemMa, even though I hurt them.

_I can kiss somebody brand new_

_and not even think about you_

Tequila, Dan + Shay

  
  


The longer Oga was single, the more he wanted to avoid romantic relationships altogether. His lifestyle was satisfactory to him, the freedoms he currently had sure to disappear or at least be reduced if he ever picked up a partner in life again.

He enjoyed spending his money on whatever he wanted to buy without having to explain himself. He liked coming and going at odd hours of the day. He could stay up as late as he wanted and not be accused of doing something as detestable as _cheating_.

In summary, he was content with his situation and had no intention whatsoever of changing it. Relationships needed work to get going and Oga wasn’t interested. He didn’t feel like opening his heart all over again and going through the process of getting to know someone new. He wasn’t enthused by the prospect of spending all of his time and effort -- and money, since Oga was the type who spoiled people he cared about even to his own detriment -- only to be left behind in the end due to misunderstandings that should’ve been simple to resolve but weren’t when viewed through biased eyes.

He wasn’t interested. He didn’t care. He didn’t even swing that way. And even if he did, Temma wasn’t even his type. He didn’t go for blonds at all.

So why, despite all that, was he pursuing Temma anyway?!

* * *

He’d realized he was doing it on the third gift he’d gotten Temma _just because_. It wasn’t that Oga didn’t spoil his friends -- he did, profusely -- but not to the extent wherein he purposely didn’t buy something he wanted in order to give his friend something else they didn’t even ask for.

Oga had paused at the counter then, his hands tightening in their grip around the box of the best reviewed binaural microphone his money could buy. He should’ve known before this -- when he’d given Temma an entire set of cookware and the staff gift-wrapping it had asked if he was buying it as a _wedding gift_ , for example -- but somehow it hadn’t clicked until he’d passed on the pre-order of the Iron Man Mark LXXXV Battle Damaged Version and decided he’d buy on release instead.

For a collector, buying on release was paying, at the minimum, a thirty percent markup. And that was _if_ they found the item in the aftermarket. It was a very big hassle that most serious collectors like Oga tried to avoid.

But he was doing it anyway.

To buy Temma a microphone. A microphone the blond hadn’t even asked for. And Temma probably wouldn’t even mind if Oga got the cheapest one as a gift. Hell, Oga was sure Temma didn’t even know one wire from the other when it came to microphones like this.

_I should stop_ , Oga thought, even as he placed the microphone down and indicated to the cashier that he’d be using a credit card.

The transaction was over and Oga had already walked out of the store when he finally admitted it to himself. _I guess I’m too far gone._

* * *

There wasn’t anything special about Temma, per se. He was absolutely good-looking, sure, but Oga had seen and dated many other people who could fall into that category. The blond had a good sense of style, but it was obvious he didn’t dress that way with the intent to seduce people around him. Roberu dressed like god’s gift to women _on purpose_. Temma was just coincidentally dressed like that because he’d opened his closet and pulled out the first thing he’d seen that looked comfortable.

Besides, even if Oga had been fooled by Temma’s appearance at first, the first few seconds of their initial meeting had dispelled all thoughts of him thinking that Temma was cool. Temma had been a flustered mess upon meeting him, shaking one of Oga’s hands with both of his and immediately launching into compliments.

_Cute_ , Oga had thought then, and nothing Temma had done afterwards had changed that impression. 

Temma was cute and Oga had inside of him an instinctive urge to gather the younger man into his arms and take care of him.

Maybe he could’ve written it off as just a brotherly urge, but Oga was pretty sure you weren’t supposed to want to kiss your brother.

* * *

“Oh wow!” Temma’s eyes were wide and he looked at a loss for words for a moment before he laughed and took the box Oga was holding out. “You know I was just thinking of getting a mic like this to do ASMR?”

“Yeah, you mentioned it,” Oga replied casually. While he was aware of his feelings now, he wasn’t the type to lose his composure around people he liked.

“Come in, come in, help me set it up,” Temma continued, backing into his house and kicking off his slippers near the entryway. Oga had to stay back a bit to slip off his own shoes, and only caught up to Temma in the blond’s room as he was already tearing into the mic’s packaging.

“Oh, if you want anything, feel free to grab something in the kitchen. My house is your house, or however people say it.”

Temma was already distracted with his new toy. He was squatting over the box like an excited puppy, pulling things out and ignoring the instruction manual that had fluttered to the floor beside him.

Oga leaned against the doorway and watched for a few seconds, his heart feeling full at the obvious happiness in Temma’s movements.

This was enough for him. It had to be. He didn’t want to push the envelope further when it came to Temma. Didn’t want that same smiling face to look at him with pain and the string of betrayal in their eyes.

It would hurt too much and Oga wasn’t sure he’d ever be ready for something like that again.

* * *

Of course, because Oga had decided to do something self-sacrificing again, the universe conspired against this immediately. Fubuki had laughed at him when he’d called her up to tell her. She was one of his oldest friends, a gateway to this new streaming life of his so to speak, and so had no problems whatsoever speaking irreverently to him like he was some sort of insect.

“Poor little maid,” Fubuki giggled over the line. “Why don’t you just tell him you like him?”

“I can’t,” Oga said, letting a little bit of panic seep into his tone at last. “It might end badly and ruin our friendship.”

“Well then enjoy listening to him moan for four hours to practice ASMR, Oga,” Fubuki teased. “In that cramped little room of his while his parents are out of town...”

“Stop reminding me,” Oga groaned, raising a hand to massage away the headache he could feel forming at the side of his head.

“Hey, _you_ called _me_ , friend,” Fubuki laughed again. Then she was silent for a moment before continuing a bit more seriously. “Oga, it’ll be fine. Temma isn’t _her_. They’re nothing alike. You deserve a chance at happiness after everything you’ve done for everyone else.”

“I can’t do it all again, Fubuki,” Oga admitted. “I just can’t. The rejection would hurt too much.”

“You have to,” Fubuki replied somberly before her tone shifted back to something light. “And anyway, if you crash and burn, we can just drink it all away at Roberu’s bar!”

* * *

As it turned out, Temma didn’t sound erotic when he moaned for the ASMR practice he’d invited Oga over for.

In fact, he sounded more like a dying animal than anything sexy.

Oga couldn’t help but laugh. He covered his mouth with a hand and chuckled, earning himself a glare from Temma as the blond stopped trying to eat his mic and sat back on his chair. Temma’s arms folded across his chest as he pouted and Oga found the whole thing very cute.

“What’s so funny?” Temma whined as he looked up at Oga who’d come to stand beside him. “I thought I was doing pretty good, actually.”

Oga reached out a hand before he could stop himself and stroked the top of Temma’s head affectionately. Temma’s hair was soft to the touch and felt feathery against Oga’s skin. Both of them froze at the contact. Oga would’ve pulled his hand back, but that would’ve been more suspicious. 

Instead, he gave the top of Temma’s head a few gentle pats as he talked. He hoped the whole thing could be written off as a _brotherly_ action instead. “Yes, it was very good, Temma. I’m not sure what you were going for, but I’m sure your viewers will like it anyway.”

Temma made a sound of agreement and looked away, back towards his mic. Oga withdrew his hand from Temma’s hair, only to be stopped by a soft request.

“Can you keep doing that for a second?” Temma murmured. “It feels nice. I think it’ll help with the mood. Not that-- not that I’m implying anything else, okay? It’s just for the recording. So I can do it properly.”

“Sure,” Oga said lightly, years of practice keeping his voice steady despite his inner turmoil. He resumed carding his fingers through Temma’s soft hair and Temma leaned back towards his touch automatically.

Temma didn’t start recording again until half-an-hour later, but neither of them mentioned it.

* * *

Temma let Oga get away with so much without comment -- an arm around Temma’s shoulders every now and then to make a joking remark, patting Temma on the head when the younger man was sitting down, pressing against Temma when they were stuck in a cramped train -- that Oga grew bolder with every meeting.

He didn’t really mean to push too far, but at the same time, it was hard to resist. He didn’t know where the lines between them were because neither of them were saying anything. All he could do was keep going and wait for Temma to tell him to stop.

It never even occurred to him to talk about his feelings.

Oga took Temma’s hand as they made their way through the comic convention. It wasn’t so obvious, given the many people around them busy trying to run from one end of the hall to the other in order to grab wanted doujinshi before it sold out.

Temma let out a small, distressed sound lost in the cacophony of sounds around them. He snatched his hand back, apologized, then pushed past Oga to continue walking towards their intended destination.

Oga didn’t try to reach out again.

They stood side by side in front of the garage kits on display, but Oga suspected neither of them were really seeing the figures.

“Oga, what are we doing?” Temma asked, his voice quiet for once. Different. “What are _you_ doing, really?”

“I don’t know,” Oga replied.

The silence between them persisted until they parted for the evening. Temma had smiled brightly as he waved goodbye, leading Oga to think everything was alright.

He was wrong, of course, but there was no way for him to know it at that time.

* * *

Temma’s replies to Oga’s messages went from ‘Sure, come over’ to ‘I’m too busy today, sorry’ and sometimes, Temma didn’t even reply at all. When Oga sent a gift, it was returned to him. When he visited, Temma’s parents said the younger man was out, even if Temma was streaming right then and was obviously in his room.

Perhaps Oga had gotten too comfortable with their situation and had let his guard down prematurely. Temma had given him so much so easily that Oga had taken the little concessions for granted.

When everything suddenly stopped, it was like someone had sucker punched him in the gut.

Temma didn’t even tell him _why_ and if he’d done anything wrong or crossed a line he shouldn’t have on their last meeting.

Oga couldn’t quite believe he’d tried to do everything right and had ended up getting hurt anyway. What had been the point of protecting himself by not confessing, then? Even without telling Temma his feelings, the blond had managed to crush his heart in the end.

* * *

There was a meet-up at Roberu’s bar, supposedly for some sort of announcement that couldn’t be done online. Oga already knew what it was, naturally, and so did everyone else. It didn’t take a genius to see that Roberu’s voice _changed_ around Shien, became softer and less loud, jagged edges mellowing as the bartender’s eyes followed Shien’s every movement across a room.

The two shared smiles that they probably thought were secret but were easy to decipher for anyone that actually knew them. Excuses that Shien was just over to cook Roberu a meal had stopped becoming believable some time ago.

Oga was sure Shien had already moved in by now, and this whole announcement was just a formality. The couple would reveal their relationship, their little group would have some drinks, and then everyone would head home and back to their own lives.

Easy, predictable, and nothing to worry about. Oga could show up, Temma would probably act casual like nothing had happened between them, and everything would progress as it normally did when the Holostars met offline as a complete group.

Oga was right about everything related to Shien and Roberu, but as it turned out, he was wrong about everything else. Temma completely ignored him that night, not even bothering with a polite hello. In fact, Oga couldn’t even get close to the blond. Miyabi monopolized Temma’s attention during the gathering, and the one time Miyabi excused himself to go to the bathroom, Aruran had taken his place.

Oga was stuck conversing with the happy couple since Astel and Izuru were playing darts with Rikka. He snuck glances at Temma across the room, but as far as he could tell, Temma never even looked in his direction throughout the night.

“Something wrong?” Shien asked when Roberu had left to go to the toilet for what seemed like the hundredth time that night. Shien looked very happy tonight, a soft glow to his smile that made Oga’s heart swell with joy despite the constant hollow pain Temma’s presence gave him.

Oga was happy for his best friend. It was only Shien’s happiness keeping him in this bar, in fact. If Oga left now, Shien would probably think he’d done something wrong as a host. Or worse, Shien might think Oga was jealous of Roberu or something asinine like that.

“Nothing,” Oga said. He was lucky this meet-up had come two weeks after Temma had cut off all contact with him. He’d had some time to recover and didn’t feel like breaking a wall or anything anymore. It was still painful, of course, but it was more of a numb pain that he couldn’t yet carve out of his heart and dispose of.

Perhaps it would always hurt. The way things had ended hadn’t given him much closure, after all, and he didn’t know how to move on from it. Even his worst ex-lover had told Oga -- in excruciating detail -- what he’d done wrong.

“Five minutes,” Shien said, as if Oga hadn’t even spoken. “We’ll get you five minutes with him. Try a little honesty this time and maybe it’ll work out.”

“What?” Oga exclaimed, dropping his glass in surprise. Shien caught it easily and placed it down on the counter nearby. “Five minutes with who?”

Shien rolled his eyes and reached out a hand to pull Oga with him behind the bar and into the back room. Oga let himself be led, partly because he was still confused, partly because he trusted Shien with his life, and maybe just a _little bit_ partly because he hoped they were talking about _Temma_.

* * *

“You underestimated me,” Roberu laughed when he saw Oga’s stunned face. He was standing in the storage room, with what seemed like hundreds of bottles of alcohol arranged neatly into rows of shelves behind him. “Did you really think I needed that many bathroom breaks?”

“Yes?” Oga said, brow furrowing. “You always--”

“Stop talking about my boyfriend’s toilet habits,” Shien interrupted. He looked at Roberu expectantly. “Where’s Temma?”

“Here~” Astel sang out, stepping out from behind a shelf and pulling what looked like a completely drunk Temma behind him. The blond was swaying. “Do you know how hard it was to get Miyabi away from his prey? Izuru had to pretend to _die_ , Rikka had to distract Aruran with talk about alcohol, and Roberu here had to do _nothing_.”

“Leda,” Roberu complained with a sigh. “I provided the route and the location didn’t I? Also, I made sure we had no toilet paper so Miyabi would be stuck for much longer than he normally--”

“ _Nothing_ ,” Astel repeated, laughing to himself. He yanked Temma forward and pushed the blond straight into Oga’s arms. “Here, Oga. Make sure you make him happy, or you’ll have to deal with _me_. Enjoy~”

* * *

Oga wasn’t sure what to say or if he should be saying anything at all. He pulled Temma away from his chest to peer into the other man’s face. His first concern was Temma’s health over anything else. “Do you need water, Temma? Do you know where you are?”

“Oga,” Temma said. His blue eyes were piercing, accusatory, angry… hurt. Now that Oga was looking closer, Temma didn’t look drunk _enough_ for this conversation. “I know exactly where I am.”

“Oh,” Oga said.

“Five minutes,” Temma said, pushing himself out of Oga’s arms to stand a short distance away with his arms crossed. He seemed a bit unsteady on his feet but determined not to be coddled. “I promised Astel five minutes and that’s all he’s getting. That’s all _you’re_ getting.”

There were many things Oga wanted to say and ask at that particular moment, but he figured he’d go with the most important one given his time limit.

“I’m sorry,” Oga said.

“For _what_ ?” Temma hissed, the frustration evident on his face as he ran a shaky hand through his hair. Oga remembered how soft it was and longed to touch the blond locks himself. He _missed_ touching Temma and it was painful to be standing here like this, close enough to touch but not having the right to do it.

“For… whatever it is you’re mad at me for. I don’t know why you’ve started ignoring me, but I’m sorry for whatever I did that caused that.” 

Oga’s voice was steady, but that was only because he was suddenly exhausted. He didn’t want to have this conversation anymore. He just wanted to go home and move on with his life. Get back to worrying about his figures and gunpla instead of… whatever the hell this was. This convoluted crap was ruining his friendship with such a normally sweet guy like Temma.

Fuck romantic relationships, really. Oga had never been good at them.

“Look, Oga, I don’t have the right to get mad at you because there was nothing between us, right?” Temma said, looking away. “Sorry I was ignoring you. I’ll… stop. Maybe tomorrow. Or after this conversation.”

“You were mad anyway,” Oga pointed out. It was petty but-- 

Temma looked pissed off all of a sudden. “I kinda want to run you through with a sword right now.”

“You don’t have a sword.”

“Oga!” Temma practically yelled in frustration. He lunged forward and Oga easily caught the fist flying towards his face. He used his grip on Temma’s hand to pull the blond into his arms completely. Oga’s embrace was tight -- it couldn’t be helped -- and Temma tensed before relaxing into it, his face burying itself in Oga’s chest.

“Fuck,” Temma said, though it sounded more like a sad whine than anything else. His arms came around Oga’s torso, his returning hug weak compared to Oga’s own. “I really don’t understand what you want from me.”

“I love you,” Oga said, the words forced out of a throat that seemed choked with emotion. The last time he had said these words, it hadn’t turned out well for him. But hell, it was already not turning out well so what did he have to lose? “So I want everything from you.”

Temma made a strangled sound into Oga’s chest. His arms around Oga tightened then, and they embraced each other in a grip that would probably leave bruises afterwards. This was probably a terrible start to a relationship, but Oga wasn’t going to say anything. He was just relieved that Temma hadn’t pushed him away yet. That was a good sign, wasn’t it?

Astel walked in exactly five minutes later -- or was it ten? Oga wasn’t sure -- and they were still hugging each other tightly. He raised an expectant eyebrow at Oga.

“Well?” Astel asked, as if he walked into these kinds of sights all the time. Maybe he did. “What happened?”

Temma mumbled something into Oga’s chest and loosened his grip. Oga released the blond and Temma turned to face Astel.

“We’re together now,” Temma said, voice strangely calm.

It wasn’t quite an ‘I love you’ -- Oga knew he’d probably only get that once Temma had properly had some sort of revenge on him -- but it was good enough. The pain he’d been nursing inside of him had eased, and there was a cautious hope to him now that maybe it’d all work out in the end.

“Great. I knew it,” Astel replied, a laugh bubbling out of him as he turned to walk back out of the door. “I’ll collect on that dinner you owe me next time, Temchan.”  
  
  



End file.
